Rogues
by artemis1186
Summary: Sequel to "Discontent." Sherlock is a vampire. John is there to remind him of when the sun comes up.
1. Sentiment

Relationship(s): John/Sherlock

Summary: Sherlock is a vampire. John is there to remind him of when the sun comes up.

Tags: vampire!Sherlock, human!John, pre-slash

Author's Note: This is the sequel to "Discontent" but both can be read as a stand-alone. Part 1 of the series titled "Rogues"

**Sentiment**

* * *

"That's why Lestrade couldn't find a match. He used someone else's print." Sherlock shoved open the door and paced on the street for a moment. "If I can just get to Mycroft's personal records I can narrow down which print he used and we can find an association." For a moment Sherlock's eyes reddened in the pre-dawn light before they retreated to their usual dulled silver mask.

John sighed and buried his hands in his pockets as Sherlock wandered off down the street. While he waited for Sherlock to realize that he wasn't keeping up he checked his watch. It read 4:10am. That meant that they had about 45 minutes before they needed to be back at the safety of the flat. John set the alarm on his mobile for 30 minutes just in case traffic was bad (and because he knew Sherlock loved to argue).

Sherlock made it about 150 yards up before John saw him pause and look around. When he noticed that John wasn't following him he turned around and came back. He was scowling by the time he reached him again. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm trying to solve a case you appear to be…"

"It's 4:15am Sherlock."

"And…"

John freed his right hand and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "And the sun will be up in less than an hour. So unless you don't mind spending the rest of your week laid up in bed while I cover you in after sun lotion I suggest we make for the flat."

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue but John was already headed for the curb to hail a cab. Sherlock huffed loudly behind him and John worked to hide his smile.

By the time they finally flagged one down they had about twenty minutes before true dawn hit. John slipped the cabbie a few extra pounds and asked if he could drive any faster. The cabbie looked nervously in the mirror and sped up. At the rate they were going they would reach the flat in under ten minutes. Plenty of time to secure the windows and get Sherlock to bed before he collapsed and John had to drag him up the stairs again.

"We could have made it." Sherlock sounded like he was bordering on petulant and John couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yes you're right we could have. If you had asked Mycroft to send a car. But are you sure you want to owe Mycroft anymore favors when you could just as easily pick up where you were tonight? Especially knowing that whoever is committing these murders won't be able to kill again until tonight either?"

Sherlock paused for a moment before he acknowledged John with a head tilt. "I suppose you have a point." With that said Sherlock went back to staring out the window. John simply smiled and accepted his victory with grace and no small amount of satisfaction.

When they finally reached the flat Sherlock's feet were beginning to drag. John merely settled Sherlock's arm over his shoulder and helped him up the stairs. John put Sherlock on the sofa while he locked the windows and lowered the blackout blinds. When he was done with that he put the kettle on and then helped Sherlock remove his shoes. When there was only five minutes left until true dawn John began helping Sherlock to his room.

"You know John there was another way we could have made it in time." John jumped as Sherlock's fingers ghosted over the right side of his pulse point. John inhaled sharply and paused in the hallway.

"We've talked about this before Sherlock. You know why it wouldn't work." John tried to catch Sherlock's eyes but his head was beginning to tilt as the daylight sapped his remaining strength.

"We haven't discussed it recently."

John sighed and tried to get him closer to the bedroom but Sherlock seemed to have decided that he wanted to have this conversation now and he wasn't going to let John get out of it.

The thing was that John knew the benefits of letting Sherlock drink from him. Sherlock would finally be able to work cases during the daytime, he would be stronger and faster and he would heal quicker. But it also came with side effects that John had seen first hand back when he had worked at A&E. Sherlock would be more volatile (both emotionally and sexually) and he would have far more control over his glamour.

John also knew that once Sherlock started drinking from him he wouldn't want to stop. Nor would John be able to hide his attraction behind expensive pheromone-controlling colognes anymore. Sherlock would be able to feel everything he felt if he chose to do so and that terrified him.

But the real reason that John had turned Sherlock down so far is because Sherlock was only ever thinking of himself. John knew that he thought it was for the right reasons. Hell, John agreed it was for the right reasons. Sherlock could save that many more lives if he was able to continue working in the daytime. If he was no longer forced to rest once the first rays of light spread across the horizon. But John was selfish. He wanted Sherlock to _want _to drink from him. Not because of cases or to have more chances to prove how smart he was (John already knew that anyways) but because he wanted that connection to John. John didn't want to be an afterthought. John wanted Sherlock's full attention.

So what if that made him selfish. John deserved a little selfishness. He had spent his whole life helping other people piece themselves back together and now he had finally found the one person who could make him feel whole. Now he just needed to wait for Sherlock to feel the same way.

"Maybe we'll talk about it more when you wake up. How's that?" John lurched suddenly to the left and had to brace himself against the wall to prevent Sherlock from braining himself against a framed painting. John sighed heavily and used the wall to help turn Sherlock around. He wrapped his other arm around Sherlock's waist and started dragging him the last few meters down the hall. When he finally reached the bed he hefted Sherlock sideways and then slid his legs up after him. John thought about removing his jacket and pants but decided against it after the mere thought made him blush. Instead he simply ended up removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt a little.

After John double checked the windows he went downstairs to grab the cooler from the fridge. He placed it next to the lamp so Sherlock would see it when he woke up and then headed for the door again. Before he left he took a moment to admire the view. Sherlock's skin was so pale it almost looked like it was glowing in the darkness of the room. His face was finally relaxed and it helped to smooth out the skin around his eyes so that if someone asked John how old Sherlock was he never would have been able to give a satisfactory answer.

The kettle sounded from downstairs and John was pulled out of his reflections. He took one last look before he closed and locked the door and headed back downstairs. As he poured himself a cup of tea he pulled the morning paper closer. In bold type face the headlines read: **ROGUE VAMPIRE STRIKES AGAIN**. John put the paper down and pulled out his laptop instead. He figured he could get a little work done on his blog and then maybe charm Mrs. Hudson into stopping by the grocer's and the blood shop for him. If not he would just wait until Sherlock woke up and then head out before Sherlock called Mycroft. Either way John wasn't going anywhere until the sun went down. Someone had to watch over Sherlock and John didn't trust anyone else to do it.

Neither did Sherlock.


	2. Primeval

Relationship(s): Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson

Tags: Vampire!Sherlock, Human!John, Vampire!Mycroft, Vampires, Gore, Murder, Mention of near non-consensual blood drinking

Rating: Mature

**Primeval**

* * *

The last rays of the sun had just disappeared when Sherlock appeared at the end of the hallway. John greeted him with an awkward smile and the newspaper. "I've already contacted Mycroft. He's expecting us."

Sherlock uttered a quick "thank you" before grabbing the newspaper and heading over to the sofa. John just rolled his eyes and went to put the kettle on.

Moments later John heard Sherlock swearing loudly from the other room. Within seconds he was standing in the kitchen waving the newspaper around furiously. "Have you read this? It's complete tosh, it's like they found some random person on the street and asked them to make up a bedtime story about vampires."

Sherlock began pacing. John tried calling to him once or twice before he simply gave up and took a seat at the table and enjoyed his tea. About twenty minutes later Sherlock finally came back to himself and left the kitchen without another word. John heard the bedroom door shut and assumed that Sherlock had gone to get dressed.

John was actually impressed that he had remembered this time. Last time Sherlock had gotten caught up in a case he had run out of the flat so fast that Lestrade had to bring him back inside and remind him that he could arrest him for indecent exposure if he didn't at least put on some trousers.

John had laughed himself silly for a week straight. Sherlock hadn't found it quite so amusing. Not because he had forgotten his trousers of course (he could care less about that) but because Lestrade had interrupted his train of thought because of something as trivial as his "Victorian notions of decency in the face of murder."

Lestrade had merely shoved him back into the flat and told him he wasn't letting him out until he had some clothes on. John and Lestrade both knew that if Sherlock had really wanted to leave then Lestrade wouldn't have been able to stop him but Sherlock hadn't argued. Instead he had thrown on the first pair of trousers that he had seen and headed out the door. It was a testament to Lestrade's professionalism in the moment that he hadn't commented on the fact that Sherlock had thrown on a pair of John's. He had gotten quite a few looks though when they finally arrived at the crime scene. One inspector even commented that Sherlock looked like a giant who had raided a gnome's closet. John hadn't found that particularly amusing since he was the gnome in that little scenario.

Sherlock hustled out of the bedroom a few moments later and immediately headed towards the door. John put his tea down and hurried to catch up.

"If Mycroft has what I need then it shouldn't take any longer than an hour to find our killer." A cab stopped right away and they both filed in.

"And if he doesn't have what you need?" John eyed Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. His skin was paler than usual which was saying something. "Did you eat tonight?"

Sherlock turned to scowl at him and John raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. I don't need to eat nearly as much as you humans do to function in top form."

John gaped at him. "Surely you're joking? I know how you get when you get hungry. For Christ's sake Sherlock I couldn't have made it any easier for you! I left the bloody bags right next to your bed." John had to lower his voice by the end of his tirade because the cabbie was giving them an odd look.

"Eating slows me down. We are searching for a deranged vampire John I would think my finding him would be of more importance than _eating._" John rubbed his hand across his hair in annoyance. John knew what Sherlock thought of the synthetic blood but he also knew that Sherlock had turned Mycroft down several times when Mycroft had offered him a willing donor. Of course Sherlock didn't know that John knew this and John sure as hell wasn't telling Sherlock that he was actually glad that he had turned him down. Even if that meant that Sherlock was slightly more irritable without human blood in his system versus the synthetic. John wanted to be Sherlock's only donor and he would be (as soon as Sherlock pulled his head out of his arse and used that astounding intellect to figure out John's reasons for repeatedly refusing him).

"Fine. There's nothing to be done about it now but you can be sure that we will be stopping later to pick you up a bag or two." The 'bloody git' was added under his breathe but Sherlock still scowled at him for it regardless.

The cabbie pulled up about twenty minutes later and Sherlock was out and gone before John could even ask him if he was paying. John grumbled angrily under his breathe as he emptied out his pockets. By the time he was done he had 5 pound and 2 pence left and John sincerely hoped Sherlock had money on him or they would be accepting that car from Mycroft after all.

When John finally made it inside he was stopped at the security desk. They were insisting that he didn't have clearance so John tried to call Sherlock on his mobile but he wasn't picking up. John sent him a text instead and waited. Nothing. "Listen, I'm sure he just got caught up, can someone just go find him and tell him…" John took a step forward and ended up with an arm across his chest. The guard shook his head and used his hand to push John back a step. John opened his mouth to give the guard a piece of his mind but his diatribe was interrupted by none other than Mycroft Holmes.

"Ah, John, there you are. What are you doing out here?" John pushed the guards arm away and headed down the hallway.

"You're brother appears to have forgotten me again."

"Oh I highly doubt that could ever happen John." Mycroft gave him a sly smile and John blushed a little under his scrutiny.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"No I suppose you don't." John felt a slight pressure against his neck for a moment but when he looked at Mycroft his pace hadn't faltered and his expression hadn't changed. John rubbed at his neck self-consciously before following Mycroft into another hall off to the left of the main hallway. Mycroft gestured to a double door at the far end and John glanced at him suspiciously only once before he made his way to the doors and entered.

Sherlock was huddled over the desk rifling furiously through a large stack of folders. "John, hand me that pen." Sherlock thrust his hand out expectantly. John made his way to the desk and handed him the first pen that he saw. "Thank you. It certainly took you long enough, I asked you for it five minutes ago."

John sighed. "I wasn't here five minutes ago Sherlock. They wouldn't let me in without clearance. Which I would have had if you had simply waited for me."

Sherlock glanced up at him. "Oh. You're forgiven then." With that said Sherlock went back to flipping through the files. John merely clenched his hands into fists and employed his deep breathing exercises.

"Have you found anything yet?" John grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the left side of the desk next to a truly hideous egg-yolk colored lamp.

"No. All of these rogues are well documented and most have already been exterminated."

"Alright, so we can eliminate all of the exterminated ones. How many does that leave us?" John started flipping through files as well, setting aside the rogues that had already been killed by the government or hunters. There wasn't any point in considering those because there wouldn't have been any prints left to use once they were killed. Vampire's skin and muscle had an accelerated rate of decomposition once their aorta had been severed. All that was left once that final cut was made was a pile of bones covered in a kind of soupy (extraordinarily foul-smelling) sludge.

"37 rogues are unaccounted for. Out of those 37, 14 are female. That leaves us with 23 possible candidates. Out of those 23, 19 were last seen outside the country."

"So that leaves us with 4 possible rogue vampires that our murderer could have used for prints." John leaned back and closed his eyes. His neck was killing him from being hunched over for so long. He rubbed roughly at the knot that had formed at the base of his skull and sighed when it finally released. After he opened his eyes he reached for another file.

It took less than a second for him to notice that something was amiss. Firstly, the hairs on the top of his arm were standing on end, and secondly the room had gone almost eerily quiet. Sherlock had stopped shuffling papers. John chanced a glance up and froze like a deer in headlights.

Sherlock was staring at him. More accurately, Sherlock was staring at his neck. More alarmingly, Sherlock's eyes were the color of arterial blood and as sharp as a scalpel. John swallowed reflexively and immediately regretted it. Sherlock's eyes seemed to narrow further to the pulse that felt like it was trying to mount an escape from John's neck.

"Sherlock. I think maybe it's time for you to take a break." John could count on one hand the number of times that Sherlock had truly lost control with him and neither of them had been this dramatic.

John knew that it would be a very bad idea to make any sudden moves but he was also aware that his fight or flight response was rapidly diminishing any form of intelligent response from his body or mind.

He only had one option left. Call for Mycroft. If he did that though Mycroft would know that Sherlock's iron-clad control was slipping and the surveillance on them would be tripled. Not only that but Sherlock would know that he wasn't in control of his urges and John knew that information like that could carry Sherlock down a road he really didn't want him to take.

Luckily (or perhaps unluckily depending on how you look at it) the decision was taken out of John's hands when Sherlock made a lightning fast grab for John's arm. John reacted on instinct and pushed backward from the desk. It wasn't John's reflexes that saved him though. If he had to rely on just those then he would have been in even rougher shape than he was. What stopped Sherlock from getting a decent grasp on John's arms was the placement of Mycroft's hideous yellow lamp. Sherlock had to take that extra second to reach around it and that split second of hesitation allowed John enough time to tip over the chair and make his way to his feet. He had never been more thankful for a repulsive piece of office furniture in his entire life.

"Sherlock, stop!" John grabbed a fire poker from beside him and took a defensive stance. Sherlock tilted his head calculatingly in response. He took a step closer and John backpedaled toward the door. "You're not in your right mind. Think about this. You don't want to hurt me."

Sherlock paused and smiled predatorily. "I can assure you that I have no intention of harming you John. I could make this pleasurable for both of us."

John went hot and cold at the same time. His heart rate ratcheted up another couple of notches and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. John would never admit it but this exact scenario had actually played out in more than a few of his fantasies before. The reality however was slightly more terrifying.

John could see and hear the transformation of consulting detective to predator happening before his eyes. Sherlock's voice practically dripped with seduction and his body looked more fluid than it had only moments ago.

"You don't know what you're saying Sherlock. You're just…" John pulled himself back from using the word hungry because he didn't think it would help the situation any. "You're just frustrated that we haven't found the killer yet." Sherlock's body pulled taut at the mention of the murderer and John knew that he had found something that he could use as a distraction. "Yes, the murderer. You remember him, the vampire that's ripping those virgins apart. You need to stop him Sherlock. Only you can stop him and you can't do that if you're distracted so I'm just going to leave you to go to your mind palace now, alright?"

While he was talking John had managed to back himself up into the door. He could feel the handle digging into his back and he sidestepped to his right to account for it. Sherlock hadn't advanced any closer towards him. He was currently shaking his head as if to clear it and John took this as his opportunity to escape. Just as he opened the door though he heard a quiet, "John" spoken across the room. He knew he couldn't stop though in case it was a trick so he continued to edge out through the door. Before he could close it completely he heard a whispered, "I'm sorry."

The door clicked closed in reply.

* * *

John leaned against the outside of the door for a full minute before Mycroft approached him. He supposed he should be grateful for even a small respite from the inquiries.

"You did well John." John straightened in outrage before he sagged back in resignation. Of course Mycroft knew what had happened in there. He probably had every inch of this place wired with cameras and microphones. For a moment he thought about getting angry. He thought about shouting that he could have been killed. He looked sideways at Mycroft for a moment and wondered if Mycroft would have tried to stop Sherlock if he had bitten him. John liked to think that he would have. But with Mycroft there was no way to know. He would hope that he would have at least stopped Sherlock before he killed him. If only to save himself the paperwork.

"He forgot to eat before we left."

"Forgot or couldn't be bothered?" John didn't dignify that with a response. Instead he slid himself off from the door and headed towards the exit. "Should I have a car brought around?"

"No I think I'll walk."

"Are you sure that's wise John. You smell…unusually delicious right now. And with a killer on the loose it doesn't seem like a spectacularly well thought out idea to go off on your own." Mycroft had scrunched up his nose in distaste and John rolled his eyes.

"I can defend myself just fine, ta." With that said John headed out the door and started east.

"You certainly can" Mycroft muttered as he spared a glance at the door that Sherlock was currently hiding behind. He thought about going in for a moment before he recognized how ill received he would be and headed off down the hall. He would be able to monitor him from his office anyways.

* * *

Sherlock arrived back at the flat exactly 10 minutes before sunrise. John had been watching the latest match on the telly and he wasn't proud to admit that he startled a little when the door opened. There was a little more color to Sherlock's cheeks from earlier and John surmised that Sherlock must have stopped for some bags before he had come back. John was surprised to find that he was slightly disappointed with this fact. He quickly shrugged that thought off though and buried it deep. He should be focusing on the fact that Sherlock had almost attacked him not the fact that it had been kind of exhilarating.

Sherlock nodded stiffly at him in greeting and John nodded back. After that Sherlock headed off toward his room. When the sun finally rose John let out the breath he didn't realize that he had been holding. This whole week was turning out far more stressful than he could have ever imagined.

A horn sounded outside and surprised John out of his revelry. He turned the telly off and checked on Sherlock before he locked the door and made his way downstairs. Mrs. Hudson must have just woken up because he could hear the kettle. He knocked gently and a few moments later the door opened.

"Oh, John. I wasn't expecting you this morning dear. Did you find the groceries I left?"

"Yes Mrs. Hudson. Ta. I wanted to know if you wouldn't mind some company this morning." She looked surprised for a moment and John felt guilty. He hadn't really taken the time to thank her for everything that she did for them while they were out running around. He resolved then and there to be better about getting down here more often.

"Of course John. Come in, come in. You can help cook the sausages." John smiled and started towards the kitchen.

After several hours spent in Mrs. Hudson's company John was reminded how nice it was to interact with regular humans sometimes. He could just relax and he didn't have to worry about having his throat torn out over breakfast. Mrs. Hudson also provided a different kind of comfort from the kind he found with Sherlock. He felt safe here and he regretted having to leave so soon but he still had to sort through his notes from earlier since Sherlock hadn't shared anything with him when he had gotten home.

As John made his way back up the stairs he suddenly felt on edge. He tried to shake it off but he recognized that his instincts were rarely wrong and he slowed his steps in response.

When he reached the top of the stairs he finally found out what was setting him off. The door to the flat was ajar. John's heart jumped into his throat and he edged his way along the wall. When he reached the door he pushed it open soundlessly and crept inside. Nothing looked amiss. The place hadn't been ransacked and there wasn't a single sound to indicate that anyone was still here. Not that he could really rely on his hearing if a vampire was involved. John headed toward the end table immediately and grabbed his Sig Sauer. He made sure the clip was engaged before he headed toward Sherlock's room. He cleared the bathroom first before he made it to his own room. Empty.

He paused for a minute outside Sherlock's door and steadied himself before he gripped the handle. He took one more deep breath (expecting the worst but hoping for the best) before he flung the door open and cleared the room. It was empty except for Sherlock's still form in the center of his bed. A sigh shuddered out of John before he could stop it and he slouched against the wall. He set the safety on his gun before he slid it across the table on his right. He closed the door with his other hand and simply took Sherlock in for a moment. He looked alright. Whole at least. John tried to think back and remember if maybe he had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten to lock the door (and close it). Then he shook his head because that was ridiculous. He would never forget something like that. Never. So that left only one other option and that was that someone had broken in. But then why hadn't they taken anything? And why would they leave Sherlock here unharmed if their aim was to kill him? None of it made any sense.

In the end John decided that he would leave the mystery for Sherlock to solve when he woke up. In the meantime John would busy himself with double checking the locks and reviewing his notes.

John reached for his gun again and used his free hand to rub at his eyes. Maybe he could get in a few hours of sleep himself after he went over his notes again. He turned to open the door and froze.

On the back of the door was a message clearly made using someone's blood:

_**YOU ARE IN OVER YOUR HEADS**_

John took a step back and reached for his mobile. Lestrade was number 4 on his speed dial after Sherlock, Harry and Mrs. Hudson. John's finger hovered over it for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye John could see Sherlock's still form and the sight of him looking so vulnerable made up his mind for him. Lestrade could wait until evening. Sherlock's safety was his first priority.

Besides, the blood would keep until then.


	3. Mercurial- Part 1

Relationship(s): Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Superintendent Thomas Nevereux (OC), David Nevereaux (OC)

Tags/Warnings: Torture, Blood, Violence, Blood Drinking, Vampires, Original Characters, Mild Blood Play, Swearing

Summary: John is kidnapped. Torture by angry vampire ensues.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

**Mercurial- Part 1**

John rubbed his hands over his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. He had already had three cups of tea and one cup of coffee but being awake for 48 hours straight was catching up to him.

Sherlock was pacing again. John always found it amusing more than anything because everything that he had ever read about vampires said that they liked to stand as still as statues when they were lost in their own thoughts. But then again, Sherlock was never anything near ordinary.

John took another sip of cold coffee and opened another browser tab. He already had one open on blood coagulation and fingerprints but he needed more information on vampire sleeping patterns.

There was a crash behind him and John turned his head to see that Sherlock had knocked over a stack of books without even bothering to try and make a grab for them. If John had to bet he would say that Sherlock probably did it on purpose anyways.

"It's been three weeks John. Why hasn't there been another corpse?" Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and wandered off into the kitchen without waiting for a response.

John was use to it. Sherlock had been hurling questions that he didn't expect answers to since Tuesday and John had simply taken to ignoring him now.

John closed the website on fingerprints and stood up to take a minute and stretch. As soon as he found his legs though his phone buzzed impatiently from his pocket.

Sherlock appeared soundlessly beside him and glanced over his shoulder. John opened the text. Sherlock was out the door and down the stairs before John had even finished reading it.

"I see you got my message." Lestrade lifted the tape and John ducked under it easily as Sherlock merely glided by. "A clerk found him about an hour ago. Said no one usually frequents this end of the alley. He was only out here because he needed some fresh air."

John stepped over a broken doll and a banana peel. He could see the body ahead but half of it was obscured by a pile of empty boxes. He could see Sherlock's lip curling up in distaste at the smell and John made a mental note to remember the mint cream next time they went out. It helped to lessen the smell for both of them and made Sherlock less irritable at the same time. It was win-win really.

John knelt down and observed the state of the body. The young man was well-dressed. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and bordering on the edge of obese. His eyes were closed. If John could only see him from the neck up he might think that he was sleeping. Unfortunately John wasn't that lucky and neither was the man.

A large section of the man's abdomen had been pulled open and his liver had been drained dry. Other organs had been pushed around or removed entirely so that there was a messy pile lying on the other side of the body.

John could only imagine what the clerk had done when he saw that.

"He looks the same as the other ones." John stood up and watched as Sherlock bent down to take his own look. He watched as his eyes scanned the body first and then the surrounding area. They settled on a darkened corner of the alley and John could practically feel the moment that Sherlock figured everything out.

Sherlock stood abruptly and faced Lestrade. "Who else has been down here besides the clerk, yourself and us?"

Lestrade didn't miss a beat. "No one. I haven't even let my team down here yet. Why?"

"You're sure that no one else has entered this alley?"

"Yes Sherlock. Positive. Why?" Lestrade was getting agitated now. John could see the tense set of his shoulders and the tightening along his brow. If his time with Sherlock had taught him anything it was reading the emotional strain of others (usually because 95% of the time Sherlock was the one causing it).

"I've just solved your case. Tell me; is your Superintendent still at the Yard?" Sherlock was already halfway up the mouth of the alley. John shrugged at Lestrade and they both followed after him.

"Yes, he's been working as much overtime as the rest of us on this one."

Sherlock stopped abruptly and made an about face. "Does he work during the day?"

"Yes of course he does. He's got a partner named David that he drinks from. Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted at Sherlock's retreating form but the consulting detective didn't even break his stride. Instead he lifted the tape and headed off in the direction of New Scotland Yard.

John paused at the border of the tape and exchanged a look with Lestrade. "You better hurry. I don't think he'll wait for you to get there before he starts interrogating your Superintendent." Lestrade visibly paled and nodded wearily as he barked orders for one of his Sergeant's to bring around a car.

Sherlock had long since disappeared from view and John couldn't help but sigh. He looked around at the bustling officers and decided that it would probably be just as easy to walk to New Scotland Yard as it would be trying to convince someone to give him a ride. A cab was out of the question because he had forgotten his wallet by the computer back at the flat.

At least it wasn't raining.

He lifted the tape and started down one of the side streets that would take him around the back way. It was relatively quiet at this time of night and John took a second to enjoy the silence as he made his way around a bicycle stand.

The silence was soon interrupted by the sound of a car engine coming up the street behind him. John kicked a pebble out of the way and turned to take the next left. Headlights reflected off the walk in front of him and John's skin began to tingle.

He was about to shrug it off when he heard the sound of the engine die and a door open. The sound of footsteps made him turn. An older gentleman with blonde hair was making his way up the walk towards him. He waved gently and John stopped walking.

"Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so. I think I'm lost." The man smiled openly and John's stance relaxed a little.

"Where are you trying to go?" John turned fully as the man finally caught up to him. Up close the man looked younger than he originally thought. Maybe mid-thirties instead of mid-forties. He was still smiling and John felt the tiny hairs on the back of his arms stand up. The man wasn't wearing a jacket even though the air was edging on the wrong side of chilly.

"I was looking for this cute little chip shop that my friends were telling me about. But for the life of me I can't remember the name of it."

All of John's alarms were going off now but he still couldn't pin down exactly why. The man looked friendly enough, acted friendly enough. And that was when he saw it.

The man had turned his head at the sound of a passing car on the next street over and his shirt collar shifted. Right over his pulse point were two neat pinpricks. Old, not fresh.

The man's gaze shifted back to him and John realized that his face must have changed because the man's smile immediately vanished. He cocked his head to the side and then shook it as if John was being a foolish child.

"You should have listened John. I didn't want to have to do this the hard way."

John tensed and reached for a weapon that wasn't there. Much like his wallet he had left his pistol back at the flat. He straightened his posture and made a quick assessment of the street. Then he made another assessment of the man. He looked like he wasn't in poor shape but John could probably outrun him if it came down to it. Or he could wait for someone else to pass on the street. But first John wanted some answers.

"Listened to what. Who are you?"

"That's so disappointing John. I thought you were clever. Maybe not as clever as your vampire, but clever enough." The man took a step closer and John responded with a measured retreat. He made sure to keep his getaway clear though.

"Enlighten me."

The man smiled again except this time it was far from friendly. He looked like a shark circling its prey and John felt a distinct drop in his stomach.

"I told you that you were in over your heads. But you just didn't listen."

John's eyes widened in understanding and he knew that it was time to make a hasty retreat. Whoever this man was he had managed to sneak into their flat without himself or Mrs. Hudson noticing.

He had also managed to stump Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock had spent a week analyzing the blood on the door but even with Molly's permission to use the lab he hadn't been able to isolate the different compounds that were mixed with the blood. All he had learned from it was that the blood was from a deceased person and it was A positive.

Whoever this man was John knew that he didn't want to face him alone. John took a deep breath and relaxed his body. The man narrowed his eyes at him and then lunged.

John feinted to the right and took off across the street. The sound of rapid footfall from behind kept him going. The light coming from the windows of New Scotland Yard lit up the night in front of him.

His feet faltered awkwardly as he practically ran into the guard booth. He paused for a minute to catch his breath. The man had disappeared.

John's legs were shaking uncontrollably as he gave his information to the officer. After a quick call to confirm he was who he said he was John was allowed to enter the building.

He made his way across the lobby and toward the lift. After he had pressed the call button he gave into the luxury of leaning against the wall for support. His heart was still beating a kilometer a minute and even though John knew he wasn't out of shape he certainly hadn't had to sprint for his life recently. It was not an experience that he wanted to relive again anytime soon.

At least now he had something of his own to report to Sherlock and Lestrade. If not a name then at least a description. The lift doors opened and John stepped in.

Since it was late there was only one other person inside. John nodded at him briefly before he turned and pushed the button for Lestrade's department.

The lift started rising and the man behind him cleared his throat loudly. John glanced back at him and took in the paleness of his complexion and the quicksilver color of his eyes. John shifted marginally out of instinct and smiled politely. The man smiled back and flashed his teeth. John stopped smiling.

Following societal norms, vampires flashing their teeth could mean three things. The first was that they were trying to intimidate you. The second was that they were flirting with you. The third is that they were going to eat you. John didn't particularly like anything of these possible scenarios and he stepped a little closer to the lift doors.

"It's John isn't it?" The man's voice sounded posh and smooth. It slithered like a snake down John's spine and pooled in his ribcage. John turned to face him.

"Have we met before?" The lift sounded behind him indicating that they had passed another floor. John's breathing increased.

"I don't believe so. My name is Thomas Nevereaux. I believe you met my partner earlier, David."

John's racing heart stuttered in his chest as Thomas reached around him and pressed the button for the tenth floor. The safety of Sherlock and Lestrade waited up on the fourteenth floor.

"I'm afraid we didn't get a formal introduction, what with the running for my life and everything."

Thomas chuckled quietly and leaned in. He hovered over John's pulse point for a moment before inhaling subtly. "I am sorry about that. David does try so hard to be thorough. If it helps he was trying to make it easy on you."

"Yeah he mentioned something about that." John swallowed convulsively. His spine was starting to protest the rigidity that it was being subjected to.

Thomas flashed his teeth again. It was decidedly more terrifying when it was happening centimeters from his neck.

"I'm afraid I won't be so gentle."

The lift doors opened and Thomas placed his hand on John's lower back to guide him out. "You'll never get away with this. Any of it. Sherlock has you all figured out."

They started down an empty corridor full of closed office doors and John's eyes kept looking for the nearest escape route. Unfortunately he wasn't holding out much hope that he could reach one even if he found it. Thomas' hand was still a lead weight at his back.

"I'm aware of that. Unfortunately for you that means I need a bargaining chip. And what better chip is there than you?" Thomas' eyes roamed his face then and John almost shivered from the complete lack of humanity there. Where Sherlock and Mycroft's eyes were warm and mercurial Thomas' eyes were muted and steely. John had no doubt that if he called for help he would be dead.

Thomas steered him into an office at the far end of the corridor and over to a window before he stopped him with a tug on the back of his jacket.

"This is the tricky part."

John raised an eyebrow in confusion and turned to ask him what he meant. He didn't even get the chance to open his mouth before everything went dark.


	4. Mercurial- Part 2

Relationship(s): Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Thomas Nevereux (OC), David Nevereux (OC)

Summary: John winds up in a sticky situation but gets himself out. Sherlock shows up as well and sees what a BAMF he is. Cuddling ensues.

Tags/Warnings: Torture, Blood, Blood Play, Blood Drinking, Vampires, Hand Job, Fluff, Original Characters and Bonding

Mercurial- Part 2

* * *

John awoke to the taste of cotton and copper.

Wherever he was it was dark and cold. He could hear pipes dripping somewhere off to his left and there was an empty steel chair positioned in front of him.

He took a moment to check his bonds and noticed with some annoyance that the handcuffs were already starting to chafe. His ankles were also bound and there was a large chain link crisscrossing his chest and winding awkwardly around to the back of the chair. He was gagged with some kind of cloth that tasted of blood. His head was also throbbing painfully and the feel of blood congealing in his hair was quickly becoming uncomfortable.

Off to his right he heard a door slam shut and for a moment the room was bathed in a wash of light. It disappeared just as quickly but at least now John knew that he had been out for quite some time. The light that he had seen was bright enough to be considered mid-afternoon (even compensating for how his eyes were adjusting in the dark).

"Good you're awake." The sound of the chair across from him scraping over the concrete was like a train barreling through his head. John closed his eyes for a moment to try and clear it. When he opened them again Thomas Nevereaux sat smiling across from him.

"Hello John. I'm glad to see that I didn't hit you too hard. Sometimes I forget my own strength." John narrowed his eyes and starting swearing colorfully at him from behind the gag. Thomas merely chuckled and leaned forward to remove it.

Once it was free John spit to clear his mouth. Red painted the ground beneath him and for a moment John watched as Thomas' eyes shifted from silver to scarlet and back again.

John used his tongue to feel around the inside of his mouth and discovered that he must have bitten his tongue when he was struck. He could feel the tear sluggishly release another flow of blood and John swallowed it down distastefully as he glared hatefully at the man across from him.

"So what now? Do you give me the whole 'I only did it because humans don't deserve to share the same air as we do' speech?"

Thomas laughed throatily and leaned back in his chair. "That's actually pretty accurate John, but no. Unfortunately for you I don't have any grand speech planned. Instead I thought that maybe we could get to know each other better." The flick of a blade echoed through the room and John's eyes narrowed to take in rough steel.

"How does this help your bargaining? Damaged goods don't exactly scream good faith." John's voice was level but his heart had kicked up painfully and he couldn't stop his hands from compulsively fighting against the cuffs.

"Normally you'd be right John. But it turns out that your Sherlock has quite the temper when his possessions are taken from him. His vindictiveness caused him to steal something of mine." John watched as Thomas' hand clenched the handle of the blade reflexively. His eyes flashed again and this time they didn't change back to their customary mercury color.

John simultaneously cursed and praised Sherlock in his head for being such an impulsive git. A small part of him was happy that David was probably in the exact same set-up as he was right now but the larger part of him knew that no matter how angry Sherlock was he would never be able to inflict as much pain on someone as the monster currently across from him.

Thomas sat up suddenly and leaned in close. His eyes roamed over John's torso calculatingly and before John could blink he was gone.

Just as suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. John could feel the bones grinding together roughly. His teeth ground together to keep from crying out.

Thomas leaned over his shoulder and gave him a pat on the shoulder with his free hand. "I'm afraid this might hurt."

* * *

The first cut was almost painless. The blade was almost as sharp as a scalpel and it parted the skin like a knife through butter. The next few cuts were decidedly less kind.

If John had to say with certainty he would say that the most painful ones were probably the ones that he made along his fingertips. Those were the ones that let John know that he was seriously in trouble. Not many people were practiced enough to know that the majority of nerve endings in the body were located in the tips of your fingers. Obviously Thomas had done this before.

Eventually John gave up the silent act. After awhile his body simply couldn't find any other way to express his pain and his agony projected itself outward through his screams.

By the time that he finally stopped cutting John's throat was raw and his clothes were ruined. If he listened close enough he was sure that he could have heard the _drip drip drip _of his blood pooling beneath him. It was spreading out past his shoes in slow motion and John had to fight to stay conscious.

Thomas studied the blade carefully before he wiped it off on the flat of his tongue. He stood slowly and John watched him wearily out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out a cell phone. "Smile John."

The flash went off and John's pupils contracted violently. He turned his head into his shoulder and then winced as the cuts in his neck pulled taut. He heard a crunch as Thomas crushed the phone under his shoe.

A moment later and Thomas took his seat again. His eyes were almost shining now. Instead of the original scarlet they had deepened to a dark maroon. What little light the room contained seemed to be absorbed ruthlessly into their depths. John felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in his throat from the thought.

Thomas smiled. "I'm glad you've still maintained your sense of humor John. You'll need it before we're through."

John glanced at him and rolled his eyes. Thomas' eyes narrowed at his impudence.

"Perhaps we should start again." John's head lifted at the tone. His voice had cut like a whip in the silence and John wanted to know if he looked as unhinged as he sounded.

Sure enough Thomas' whole body looked like a rubber band that was being stretched too far. His skin was practically glowing in the darkness. John's mind began to race with the implications.

How long had he been feeding from David? If it had been longer than 3 years then he had entered the addiction phase. He wouldn't be able to function sanely much longer than 2 days without feeding from his bonded source. Everything suddenly made much more sense.

Sherlock had taken David in an attempt to smoke Thomas out of hiding. The closer Thomas got to the second day the more desperate he would be to regain David. None of John's blood would do him any good either because he would still need the specific proteins in David's blood that had been created when they bonded. Thomas wouldn't be able to survive past a week without a taste of David's blood.

David wasn't in a much better situation. The bond that they shared would drive him insane if Thomas didn't drink from him. While Thomas gained specific proteins from David's blood it also created a safety protocol within his DNA that both strengthened him and kept him safe from other vampires. If another vampire drank from him the protein markers would attack the vampire's cells and make them extraordinarily ill. That was why bonds were considered serious endeavors for both parties involved.

All of this begged the question, why kill the other people in the first place if he had already formed a bond? Just for fun?

John watched as Thomas stood and started pacing. The blade flicked back and forth between his hands and John studied his movements. He was getting slower, less graceful.

He turned suddenly and pinned John with his gaze as if he could guess what John was thinking. "Perhaps your Sherlock needs further incentive."

"Fuck off."

Thomas' lips curled back in a snarl and he took a step forward. John leaned back as far as his chains would allow but Thomas' hand on the back of his neck stopped his retreat. "You stupid little human! You think that he's coming to save you?! You think he's so clever, well I can assure you that he's not!"

By the time he finished his diatribe he was practically foaming at the mouth. John's body tightened in preparation for another attack. Thomas moved the knife down to the juncture of his groin and thigh and pressed. The venom of his voice seeped into John's soul. "Do you think he'll care for you when you're broken? Will he piece you back together again?"

The knife cut a little deeper and John could feel the blood welling up beneath it. He took a deep breath and tried to regain some sense of mental calm.

Suddenly Thomas straightened and glanced toward the door. His fangs pulled back and the sound that he made had the hairs on the back of John's arms standing on end.

He glanced back at John and John realized that he was out of time. If Sherlock truly was here then Thomas wasn't going to let him walk out of here alive.

For a moment John froze. His body relaxed and his mind stalled. He was filled with an immense feeling of serenity. He blinked. Thomas was starting towards him with the knife again and John held his breath waiting for the perfect moment. It came when Thomas was only a few centimeters away from him.

John shoved backward and the chair tipped towards the floor. His legs came up with the chair's and he connected hard with Thomas' hand. John could just make out the sound of the blade skidding off into one of the far corner's of the room.

Thomas paid it no heed. Instead he seemed to have lost all control of his more favorable mental faculties. He looked like a wild animal now. His lips had practically disappeared because all John could make out were teeth and gums. His eyes were like laser points, his pupils had contracted so that they seemed almost non-existent. He began clawing at John with his bare hands, tearing away at the skin of his cheeks and what was visible of his chest.

John used all of the energy that he had left to roll the chair to the side so that he could get up onto his knees. Thomas landed on his back and John grinned. He threw his head backwards and connected solidly with Thomas' nose.

From beside them the door caved inward. John made out the sound of another inhuman snarl before Thomas' weight was suddenly gone from his back.

The chair was lifted and he screamed as the chains rubbed against the copious amount of cuts littering his chest and torso.

Lestrade's face appeared in front of him and John could see his lips moving but he couldn't hear his words. The Doctor in him knew that he was going in to shock. His mind started to shut down and John could feel the cold sweat gathering at his temples.

He could feel Lestrade removing the cuffs from around his wrists and his arms fell limply to his sides. The chains were the next thing to go and finally the ankle restraints were gone too. John felt like an empty shell.

John blinked and Lestrade was gone. He was closer to the floor now but his head was currently cradled against someone's shoulder. John's eyes closed as he tilted his head to the side.

His cheek brushed against something soft. The smell of antiseptic, wool and copper wafted up at him and John couldn't help but smile. It had to be Sherlock. John's body instantly relaxed back into the embrace.

Sherlock was running his fingers through his hair anxiously. "Can you hear me John?"

John tried to nod but it came out more like an aborted attempt at a wordless hello. Sherlock pulled his head back against his shoulder and turned him a little so that John could see his eyes.

They were blood red. "John, I need you to listen to me. I need to feed you some of my blood. You won't make it to the hospital without it. Do you understand?" Sherlock's eyes were wide with worry and John felt like he was dreaming. "John. Will you do it?"

John almost laughed out of the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation. John had been waiting for a moment like this since he had first set eyes on Sherlock Holmes. But this isn't how he wanted it to happen.

John shook his head and Sherlock inhaled sharply beside him. "John, you'll die without it."

"Can't. Won't do that to you." Sherlock frowned openly at him.

"What are you talking about? I'm trying to save your life."

"You deserve to bond with someone you love." John could feel his lips go numb and his arms felt like two lead weights.

Sherlock was gaping at him. If John wasn't dying he would have laughed. A speechless Sherlock Holmes was something to be treasured properly. Unfortunately John didn't seem to have the time.

"John. You…are a complete git." John blinked at him in confusion. "I could only ever bond with someone who understood me. And the only person that will ever understand me is you."

John shook his head again. "I'm dying Sherlock. You want to save me. It's what you do and it's one of the reasons that I love you. But I won't let you ruin your life just to save mine. You're my friend but a bond is for more than friends."

It was Sherlock's turn to shake his head. "You are my friend. My best friend. But I would be lying if I said that was all that you are to me." Sherlock grabbed John's chin then and lifted it carefully. Before John could ask what he was doing Sherlock kissed him.

John froze and cursed his bad luck that the first kiss he shared with Sherlock he couldn't feel. Sherlock pulled back and licked his lips reflexively. "John. You have to say yes."

For a moment John paused and took in everything he could about this moment. Sherlock's curls had fallen in his eyes and his skin was as pale as snow. He looked terrified. Terrified of losing him.

"Yes."

Sherlock exhaled and quickly bit into his wrist. He pressed it gently to John's cold lips. John took a tentative lick and almost moaned with rapture. Sherlock's blood was an entire sensory experience. He could taste his favorite tea, the biscuits that his Mother made for him when he was young and a bowl of really good curry. He could smell fresh cut grass and new books. He could hear Sherlock playing his violin and feel the wool of his coat under his fingertips.

John bit harder and Sherlock moaned above him in response. The blood was pouring down his throat now and John could start to feel his limbs responding to the power of it. It was like his body was knitting itself together again. He wouldn't heal completely but his body would recover enough to keep him alive.

Finally John released Sherlock's wrist. John slumped backward into Sherlock's chest and giggled. Sherlock laughed as well. "You know this exchange goes both ways." Sherlock glanced at him to assess his seriousness.

"Yes it can. It doesn't have to though if you don't want it to." John punched him lightly in the arm.

"And you thought I was a git." Sherlock laughed brightly again and John smiled up at him. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair as the emergency care workers entered through the crushed door.

John sighed as they loaded him onto the stretcher and started pushing him out. Sherlock stood up and quickly made his way to his side. He grabbed his hand swiftly and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his knuckle. "I have to finish up with Lestrade but I'll meet you at the hospital." John nodded and squeezed his fingers lightly.

"You better." Sherlock merely chuckled.

* * *

John was released from the hospital two days later with strict instructions to feed again before he tried doing any strenuous exercises. John blushed but assured the Doctor that he would be well taken care of.

Since it was daylight John had Lestrade pick him up from the hospital to take him back to the flat.

It was quiet when he finally arrived. Sherlock's door was closed and John smiled fondly as he hung up his jacket.

Most of his wounds had healed nicely but the claw marks on his chest were still feeling pretty raw. John made his way down the hall and pushed open the door. Sherlock had fallen asleep with one arm on his chest and the other lying open beside him. John had to pause at the blatant invitation.

Soon though he was moving towards the bed. He didn't bother undressing because honestly he was exhausted.

So instead he just lay down and curled himself into Sherlock's side. He breathed in Sherlock's unique scent for a moment before he carefully lifted Sherlock's arm up and over his shoulder. Within seconds he was finally, blissfully asleep.

* * *

John awoke to Sherlock's soft lips carefully kissing their way across his neck. He sighed happily and arched into him meaningfully. Sherlock paused and inhaled subtly.

"Hello John."

"Hello Sherlock."

"How are you feeling?"

John laughed and pulled back a little so that he could see Sherlock's eyes. "I know something that might help me feel a little better." Sherlock's grin spreading across his face was like John's own personal brand of sunshine. It made him feel lighter and fuller than anything else in this world could.

"What would that be?" Sherlock's eyes were glinting mischievously and John could feel a shiver working its way down his spine.

"You're Sherlock Holmes aren't you? Deduce." Sherlock wrapped his hands gently in John's hair and moved him a little further up the pillows.

"You have to say yes" Sherlock whispered. John swallowed convulsively and put his hands on either side of Sherlock's face. Sherlock leaned into them and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again his eyes were the color of fresh roses.

"I'll always say yes." Sherlock smiled at him and John smiled back. "Now bite me before I lose my patience."

Sherlock laughed and angled John's neck to the side with the hand that was still in his hair.

He buried his nose against his pulse point for a minute and inhaled. He moaned softly and took a tentative lick. John's heart rate skyrocketed. He was sure that Sherlock could hear it and that only made him more excited.

Finally Sherlock pulled back and John looked up to see his fangs come out. Sherlock took one last second to admire the sight of John spread out beneath him before he leaned in and bit.

John gasped audibly and gripped Sherlock's shoulders tightly. The feeling was better than anything he could have ever imagined. He was hard in a matter of seconds and Sherlock bit deeper in response.

John writhed for a minute and tried to arch closer. He couldn't even feel the cuts on his chest anymore as Sherlock settled his weight over him to control the pace. Sherlock gripped the back of John's neck tighter to keep him from getting his neck torn open. John was oblivious to the danger though. All he knew was that Sherlock Holmes had his teeth in his neck and it felt fantastic.

John lost total control when he felt Sherlock's hardness against his hip.

"Please Sherlock." Sherlock groaned loudly against him and pressed harder. John felt lightheaded and euphoric. He had never felt this good in his entire life.

Or at least that's what he thought until Sherlock tore the button on his trousers open. As soon as Sherlock's hand wrapped around his cock John keened. "Sherlock. God, just let me…"

He tried to reach underneath him to get at Sherlock but Sherlock immediately released the hold on his hair in favor of grabbing his wrist.

He pulled back suddenly and John could see the blood staining his lips. "No John, I've waited far too long to have you in my bed." John was about to open his mouth in protest when Sherlock kissed roughly. His tongue darted out and swept into John's mouth like he owned him. When he was done they were both panting. This was the kind of kiss that he had been waiting for. "Let me take care of you."

John couldn't do anything but nod weakly as Sherlock tightened his grip. John's breath hitched in his chest and he collapsed further into the pillow. Sherlock's stare was all consuming. He watched John like he was the only thing in the entire world that had any meaning. Like John's pleasure was the only thing that mattered anymore. Like John mattered.

John came to the sight of Sherlock biting his own lip. Their blood mixed into a single drop and John leaned up and licked it off. Sherlock's body arched into a bow before he slumped forward and crushed John into the mattress.

"Did you just…?"

Sherlock nodded faintly before he managed to lift himself off from John and settle beside him. John laughed for a moment out of sheer surprise and Sherlock glared at him. John shook his head in denial and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's because you're irresistible. It couldn't be helped."

John snorted and Sherlock wrapped his arm around him to drag him closer. He licked lightly over the slowly oozing wound in his throat and the marks closed instantly. All that was left was a small blood trail that Sherlock quickly rid him of and two small pink scars directly over his pulse point. Sherlock studied them proudly for a moment before he allowed John to settle back against his shoulder.

John tried to hide his yawn but Sherlock saw it anyways and used his free arm to haul the comforter up the bed and over John's shoulders. "Don't you have a case you need to work on?"

Sherlock shook his head and squeezed him tighter. "I think we can claim a night for ourselves, don't you?"

John yawned again and nodded. "I completely agree."

John grabbed Sherlock's hand tightly and wound their fingers together. Sherlock admired them for a moment before he turned his attention to John's face. His eyes had closed and his breathing had evened out. In sleep his features had evened out and his lips were curled back in a relaxed smile. Sherlock couldn't help but admire his beauty before he closed his own eyes.

The sound of John's cell phone resounded from the hall and Sherlock smiled. They wouldn't be taking any calls tonight, Sherlock would make sure of that. Once John woke up he was going to make sure that they made up for lost time.

After all, they had both been gits. Now it was time that they became geniuses.


End file.
